


power doesn't run on nothing

by thorinsbigdicko



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: RipFic, but this fic isnt nice to him, everyone else has like a really small role, mick too, thawnter if you squint, the rest of the legion is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorinsbigdicko/pseuds/thorinsbigdicko
Summary: ideally, what i would want to happen at the end of fellowship of the spear, going into doomworld and the legend's personal hells.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i mean if land of the lost taught me anything, it's if you want something done right you do it yourself.

Despite their efforts, despite having their captain back and having an upper hand, the Legends still lose to the Legion.

The battle’s not quite over yet, but it’s just about. Rip struggles to his feet once more, ignores the pain in his legs, the burning in his chest, the throbbing in his head. He knows Sara still stands, but Ray’s suit is damaged and he’s unconscious; Martin and Jax are in the same state, separated and defeated, and Rip hasn’t heard from either Amaya or Nate in an unsettling amount of time.

Rip can only spare a glance at where Darhk and Sara are still going at it. Sara’s losing steam, but Darhk isn’t. Rip wishes he could help, but now his only hope is getting the Spear, maybe taking away the reason to fight.

He sees Malcolm close, and the other man’s got his back turned, the Spear in one hand. He appears to be communicating with someone—Eobard and Snart are both still unaccounted for, so it could be them—and appears otherwise distracted. Rip steadies himself, tries to approach without making much noise. The sounds of battle are dying down, so he knows his window is limited. He is aware of the fact that he will only get one chance at this. Sara won’t be able to hold out forever, and Rip, skilled as he might be, cannot possibly fight off two Ex-League members.

He also knows he has to try. He cannot not let the Legion win, not after everything they have done to the timeline, after everything they have done to _him._ Although every part of him is screaming to retreat to the ship, maybe make it out of there alive, every part is screaming in agony, every part just wants to lie down and let the Legion do what they would, he knows he can’t.

Rip takes a second to breathe, and then jumps up and throws himself towards Malcolm.

He isn’t fast enough.

Eobard sees him coming, somehow, and is able to interfere before any party has time to react. He stops before Rip, and the next thing Rip is aware of is being on his back, gasping for breath, farther than he was before. For a good minute, he can’t focus on anything except for the pain in his body.

What hurts more, though, is the realization that he’s failed.

Seconds later, Eobard lets out a low chuckle as he approaches him. Malcolm follows behind, looking relieved, although it would not have been that hard to fight off Rip.

Rip struggles to at least get on his knees, knowing that these might be his final moments.

“Now, Captain Hunter, we didn’t come all this way for you to ruin it for us,” Eobard says, his tone light, his smile reflecting the joy he feels at the victory. Rip wants nothing more than to use the Spear to run Eobard through, but it is difficult enough to merely remain upright. One of his arms is curled protectively around himself—over ribs which definitely _feel_ broken—and the other is used to prop himself up when he starts to sway.

“Go to hell,” Rip says from behind gritted teeth.

Eobard doesn’t seem to mind Rip’s anger, rather he simply shares a look with Malcolm, and Damien, who has finally finished (and won) his fight with Sara. Snart is still unaccounted for, but Rip knows it won’t matter. He’s clearly outnumbered anyways.

“I’ll tell you what, Rip,” Eobard says, stepping closer and squatting down. He now holds the Spear in his hands, a clear taunt. Both he and Rip know Rip would not be able to take it. “I’ll give you a choice. I’ll let you and your friends live,” Eobard pauses, letting the offer sink in, “if you come and join us again.”

First, Rip feels a cold shot fear spreading throughout him. He can still clearly remember being a slave of the Legion, doing their bidding even if it meant hurting his friends. Those memories, which he tries not to think about—which he’s _tried_ not to think about—haunt him. The guilt that accompanies them threatens to drown him.

Then he feels the anger.

“I’d rather _die_ than join you, Thawne.” Rip spits out, fists clenched. A part of him recognizes that he will be powerless, whatever comes next. It’s a feeling he’s familiar with.

Eobard’s smile drops, and he leans in close, dangerous, even without the red lightning, the speed which makes him more than human. “What I have planned for you is worse than death, I’m afraid.”

Rather than feel fear again, overwhelming and cold, Rip just feels tired. Resigned. But, he does not want to give Eobard the satisfaction. He holds his gaze, even as Eobard stands up again.

From Rip’s left, Snart comes in, Mick held at bay with the edge of his gun. Mick, surprisingly, doesn’t look half as bad as the other Legends. Rip tries to make contact with him, but Mick does not meet his eyes.

“Wait, are we not killing them?” Malcolm asks, confused. Self-appointed Spear holder and coward that he is, Malcolm stayed back when the fighting took off.

“Well, that’s not the goal, but no one said anything against it,” Eobard supplies, crossing his arms. They’ve all forgotten about Rip, but given his state, he isn’t much a threat. “But I think ‘knock them unconscious’ was at least implied.”

“He wants to join us,” Snart says without preamble, or even any strong feeling.

“Is that so?” Darhk replies, entirely dubious.

“If it’s a choice between dying with them, or getting a cushy new reality with the rest of you, it’s not a hard choice,” Mick growls, glaring at Darhk.

Rip thinks that after all the times he’d been betrayed, once more wouldn’t feel as bad, but still, this hurts. He feels a little breathless, and has to look away from the scene before him. He clenches his fists hard, trying to stop the shaking he feels coming on. It’s a good distraction, but it’s not enough.

“Mick—” he starts, but stops when Mick looks towards him and starts to move. Rip flinches.

“Let me kill him,” Mick says, and they all know he means Rip, “Prove I’m serious about this.”

Eobard looks impressed, but waves him off. “I want him alive,” he says simply.

“If he turns on us, it’s both of your heads, Snart,” Darhk warns, with a sigh. Snart just shoots him an annoyed look, but concedes.

Eobard turns back to Rip, with a smile. Another victory.

Rip can’t hold his gaze, then. He just looks at the ground. He feels a numbness spreading through him, knowing what is coming will be bad not just for him, but for his friends. His new family.

“Well, gentlemen,” Eobard starts with a flourish, “I think it’s time we made the world a better place.”

“Finally,” Malcolm scoffs. He looks pleased, smug, and ready to provide ideas on how to create the ideal world. His twisted version of it, at least.

Eobard gives Rip one last smile as he leaves, and without another word, turns and leaves, leaving the Legends scatted and broken, already plotting on how to make them pay for even daring trying to stand against the Legion. Rip watches them, everything in him wishing he had the strength to stand.

Rip hopes Mick will at least turn around, give some sign that he doubts his choice, but Mick walks away. He doesn’t look back.

Slowly, Rip feels the world give away underneath him, despite the fact that the Legion hasn’t yet touched the fabric of reality.

Slowly, he sinks backwards, exhausted and unable to stay upright. Defeated and alone he looks up towards the sky. The night’s quiet, and clear; a few stars are visible. He tried to focus on them, waiting.

Waiting.

Far off, he hears the first shouts of his teammates, waking up. He’ll have to face them. He’ll have to tell them what happened. He’ll have to tell them they lost.

Rip find a small amount of comfort in that thought that at least he had _tried,_ even if it wasn’t enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i GUESS mick eventually turns on the legion and saves everyone but maybe someone else gets the spotlight for once


End file.
